The Foundations of a Man
by Zombie Cat Scientist
Summary: Harry's life didn't begin the day he chose his house beneath the hat. It's the little choices we make, the ones we never think about, that shape who we are. Examines/deconstructs Life Pre-Hogwarts to First year. Will happily allow suggestions to influence story! edit: I have since writing changed my mind a bit (I do that a lot for fun) but still stands as a possible interpretation.
1. Dudley's Tenth Birthday Party

**Harry Potter Adventures**

_A 'choose your own story through reviews' game-story, NOT a 'flip to this chapter to make this choice' interactive. You don't have to actually have to make choices or review if you don't want to, and I may or may not take your suggestions particularly if they are Mary-Sueish. And if you want to do an actual review where you put what you think of the actual story, or state what events you think should be covered in future (I don't have a photographic memory or a perfect ability to calculate the chaos from hitting a butterfly brings) that's good too._

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><p>Harry Potter, nine year old nobody. He gazed in annoyance at the bull dog, Aunt Marge's Ripper, that had just chased him up a tree. It was Dudley Dursley's tenth birthday. He had stepped on Ripper's tail on accident. What would he do next?<p>

He thought carefully. Marge and the Dursleys looked torn between being pissed off at him and laughing at his misfortune. He mentally added up the different choices he could make.

a-} Wait until the bulldog goes away.

b-} Yell for help.

c-} Slip down and face it.

d-} Throw sticks at it from the safe vantage point of the tree.

z-} Something else.

Waiting until the bulldog went away was what he usually did when Dudley chased him up a tree, traditional if not very brave, and affective in that the cautious choice had never ended up too badly for him. He could yell for help, maybe the Dursley family or one of the neighbors would take pity on him. Someone certainly would hear him eventually who cared, right? He'd learned his lesson about carefulness, having him stay up all day wouldn't be fair. Then there was throwing sticks and things. Dogs liked to chase moving objects, or at the very least didn't like getting hit by flying projectiles. Maybe he could distract it and make a get-away- smart and painless if it worked. Then there was, well, facing it head on.

He knew if he did that, he'd certainly get into trouble. But he was getting into trouble all the time, no matter what he did. Maybe this time he should at least deserve it. And maybe it would go differently from the way things usually did. Maybe the pay off would be worth the risks. Facing the dog would be both brave and ambitious of him.

It didn't occur to Harry to think that the little choices he made every day would shape who he was and how he saw himself. He was too distracted by Ripper's barking for anything deep or philosophical, though one had to admit being on the tree was very very boring. Harry also just wasn't capable of that kind of thinking yet. He was only nine, for bloody goodness' sake, and not exactly in an intellectually or emotionally nurturing environment. The Dursley family wasn't even that religious, so it would never occur to him to pray for help either. Besides, hoping someone would come and rescue him or that his parents would come back from that car crash (perhaps after secretly being in a coma for eight years) never accomplished anything. Real life had stamped out that kind of naive idealism from him even at his young easily impressionable age. It hadn't been totally abusive, more like hideously neglectful as evidenced by the current situation where no one could be bothered to do anything but laugh at him, but it hadn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows either.

Time was ticking. Really, really agonizingly slowly ticking.


	2. Dealing with Ripper

**Part 2.**

_Thank you mechdjinn and pfft. It is fairly interesting that it seems like the kind of choices Harry would likely make would not turn him into a Gryffindor at all, but then again, there is still much more of the story to go... and speaking of which...  
><em>

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><p>He chose...<p>

_**A**. Positive Slytherin (for adhering to 'tradition') potential, + Ravenclaw potential (for wisdom), + Hufflepuff (for patience). Negative Gryffindor potential (for not acting like one in any way)._

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><p>He didn't dare defy the status quo, or presume to think anyone would ever actually care about his welfare over the dogs. Throwing sticks, he'd get in tons of trouble if one actually managed to hit, or if Marge simply imagined one did; heck, they'd probably assume it was malicious in intent even if he threw it in a direction completely away from the dog. There wasn't a lot of places to throw anyway, and they'd probably accuse him of trying to lure Ripper out into the street so it could get hit by a car or of trying to chuck sticks at them. Face the dog? No way, the pain just wasn't worth it, even if he did win a fight or manage to stare the dog down; the Dursleys would find some new punishment. He waited patiently, like usual, until the bulldog went away, an act of wisdom as he managed to entirely get out of any other punishment for stepping on the dog's tail. However it backfired slightly.<p>

Aunt Marge waited until _midnight_to call the hound off! His arms ached heavily, his belly sore with hunger, and he was glad to slip down and crawl into the cupboard to rest. Harry was so exhausted he went to sleep immediately on his bed, ignoring the spider crawling over the shoes still on his feet.

He woke up in the morning to Aunt Petunia rapping on the door loudly, with a blaring headache from staying up so late, and was given a list of chores to do. The first of which is making breakfast. It was the 24th of June, 1990, when he woke up the next morning after the dog incident, and Aunt Marge was leaving along with Ripper in a few hours. Harry's birthday was coming up next month, but he didn't expect any presents or cake. He'd soon be ten years old, not that such was much to celebrate, simply that there was one less year in the years before he could move away. There was no school coming up any time soon, but Dudley, at least for awhile, would be distracted by all his new toys and wouldn't go Harry Hunting.

That meant, barring any funny business, Harry would have at least _some_ free time unharassed for once!

He could:

1-} Finish the chores as quickly as possible.  
>2-} Complete them carefully and thoroughly.<p>

3-} Heck with that, just look for an opportunity for petty revenge on Ripper and Aunt Marge before they leave. Make it look like Ripper had an 'accident' on the floor. Petunia's always hated dogs. Then perhaps Ripper would never come back to visit.

Then:

a-} Confront the Dursleys about their treatment.  
>b-} Run away from home.<br>c-} Beg Vernon and Petunia over and over for a decent present for his birthday, try to get on their good sides by acting nice and normal. Try to get extra food when no one is looking, make more in meals than even Dudley can possibly eat so as to not be so hungry all the time.  
>d-} Spend all extra time possible devoted to reading, studying and gathering information, snitch some old unused books and toys from Dudley's bedroom if possible between chores. Dud's never noticed previous thefts.<br>e-} Play and relax, explore outside and maybe try to make friends with someone or get a small job mowing lawns or something. Try and find wildlife to watch.

f-} Try to befriend Dudley of all people. If Dudley stopped hitting him or making trouble, most of his troubles would go away. If Dudley protected him, Vernon and Petunia might actually be forced to be nice to Harry.

g-} Spend his time daydreaming.  
>z-} None of the above.<p>

No one had ever really sat down with him and discussed with him the importance of a good education. Oh, sure, he'd heard Uncle Vernon spout off rants about the quality of the teachers in the country several times, or tell Dudley what a great job he was doing in his work (yeah, right, never mind when that work was stolen off of Harry) or Aunt Petunia talk about how a good school would help Dudley get a great job like his father someday. But it had never occurred to Harry to think about spiting the Dursleys by excelling in school and getting a better job than Dudley one day. Perhaps mainly because to excel would be to get noticed, and to get noticed would be to be punished for his freakishness by the Dursleys. And of course, because being extraordinary in any way was _bad_. He'd always quietly suspected it wasn't, that Dudley was in fact a pig and an idiot, that Vernon was blind and Petunia just as blind, and he the only sane one of the lot, but there would always be that quiet kind of doubt. A nagging fear that maybe, just maybe he was as awful was everyone said, that they were only being awful to him 'for his own good' as Vernon always declared. After all, there was no one to say otherwise. At least, not any adult who could be trusted, and he hadn't any friends his own age he could go to about it.

And it wasn't like he was brilliant, or really athletic, though clearly he was a much better runner than Dudley; the better kinds of extraordinary. The truth was, the only thing he really liked about himself was his scar. It was special, but nobody ever gave him any trouble for it. And it was the only thing he had to remind him of his parents.

Harry had to admit, he was terribly, terribly lonely at times. But mostly, hideously bored, the sheer dullness of his situation paving right over most of the angst quite quickly. He had a few knights he'd stolen from Dudley's pile of unused things, and other stuff, since the Dursleys never gave him any toys, but there were only so many times one could play King Arthur. He barely knew the tale of the Knights of the Round Table tales though; whenever anything about Merlin came up Petunia would always turn the telly off as if it might give him strange ideas. Vernon didn't care much for 'imagination' either.

Sometimes, he thought about asking flat out why they hated him so much. Why there was the strange things that kept happening around him, and maybe even how to stop being strange. It wasn't like he wanted to, really, if it got him in trouble all the time. On the other hand, such a thing would be extremely dangerous to his health. He could go to the cup board for months without a single answer.

It was no wonder that he found himself spending most of his time day dreaming, of scenarios like a long lost relative coming to take him away or his parents never dying in the car crash. Could one miss people they'd never really known? Mourn them? Then other times, he imagined being a knight himself, afraid of no one and bullied by none.

It was the safest thing _to_ do. Yet with summer vacation plus the brief window of Dudley distracted with presents, he had so much time to himself it seemed rather like a waste to do nothing but sit still.


	3. The Sock

**Part 3.**

_Thanks Jiou and Agnieszka-luv-HP (who I read the review of after writing most of this chapter, sadly, but yes, you can chose multiple if you want); you both chose very different options, which was pretty amusing._

_Directed to Jiou, If I do remember correctly, Harry did steal from Dudley in canon a few toy knights; or perhaps that was just in the movies, since certainly the Dursleys did not give him those toys in his cup board. I seem to remember reading about J.K Rowling okaying it. As this fic is currently a focus on pre-Dursley life, I thought I'd try to fit in all the little details I could. I will continue putting up options that don't sound like Harry's natural personality at all, because of the nature of this piece- it is already starting to go a little AU. You have it spot on that just because he tries something, doesn't mean it will work._

_I've been viewing it as more like a collaborative work, since multiple authors and betas -are- allowed on a single fic and there is nothing unlawful about suggestions, especially since you guys are very nice about explaining why you think Harry would or should make so and so choice which is just like normal reviews, but the polling thing is something I've seen a lot. Perhaps I shall try to reword the summary soon to cause less confusion and potential trouble. Or maybe remove that part entirely, and just trust my reviewers to be kind and not spam with 'update morez' for 'reviews'._

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><p>He chose a <strong>Mixed<strong> strategy, leaning more towards **2, G** and **D **with a little **E**. _Got mostly Ravenclaw (for creativity) and Slytherin (for cunning) potential this turn, as well as a little Hufflepuff for willingness to work hard even when the task is distasteful, though not much since he didn't particularly want to._

Marge left without any problems, just a few snotty remarks about last night serving him right. Harry thought of doing something to Ripper in revenge or to keep the other from showing up again, but in the end could not really put his heart into it or find something appropriate that couldn't backfire horribly. Ripper was, after all, just a dog even if it had tried to bite him. Aunt Marge was the one he really disliked. Too, though, he had very little practice at deceit in his near-ten years of life, and this would be a time under stress. He didn't think he could pull it off.

Over the month, he daydreamed and did his chores carefully and thoroughly, giving himself a little less time but giving none of the Dursleys any reason to harp on him- he also tried to do them quickly, thoroughly not meaning he had to be lackadaisical about it. He found that if he escaped outside quickly enough, he could avoid extra chores that Petunia had yet to assign. None of the neighbors liked him, despite a few attempts of his at waving hello and smiling, but he found a quiet little place to sit at the playground where he could play. Dudley had 38 presents, broken several of them already, and this meant Harry knew his good times were coming to an end; the other child in the house was getting dangerously bored. He had, sadly, absolutely nothing to bribe the other boy with, having nothing of his own and certainly nothing Dudley wanted except punching bag enjoyment. Honestly, he was surprised the lot of toys even managed to last near a whole month at the pudgy child's whims, and the other only went Harry Hunting once or twice. He had to flee from the playground, but in return he'd found a good tree to sit in that no one else knew about. A stream ran by it that he guessed eventually bled into the river Thames, and it was very peaceful if a very long walk.

During the month, he'd done a lot of quiet reading to fuel his imagination. One (or, really, nearly all) of the books had been, actually, one of Dudley's, completely untouched and unnoticed. He planned to return it eventually of course, not having room in the cup board for such things, but it really wasn't like his cousin was using it. He also studied, if for no other reason that to make sure he didn't end up as ignorant and stupid as Dudley and so he wouldn't flounder when time came to go back to Primary School and get scolded for doing too poorly (living with the Dursleys was a bizarre balancing act, and being average was the perfect balance). Out of bored curiosity, he picked up a manual for drills and their assembly that he was pretty sure was Uncle Vernon's, but it was so incredibly dry and technical he hadn't been able to finish. There went his fantasies about doing Vernon's job better than the rotund mustached man did, though of course a nine year old would never be put to work or charge of a drill factory. And even over the phone, he didn't think he could stomach even pretending to be Vernon, as amusing as it might be.

Harry played in his cup board alone today, it being more comfortable than a tree. It wasn't the worst thing ever, and it was certainly one of the more pleasant ways to spend his unfortunate life. And sometimes, just because he could for once, he'd laze about and relax; pretending he was somebody important on vacation after a hard day's honest work. The flowers he'd just trimmed? Ha, those weren't just any flowers, they were rare one of a kind Amazonian flowers straight from South American jungle! Certainly, he could imagine Aunt Petunia as some sort of vicious llama crossbred with humanity. Aunt Chupacabra, perhaps? And Vernon and Dudley were vampire bats, feeding on happiness instead of blood, which explained why they were so fat. Though, giving them wings made them far too awesome than they deserved. The green eyed boy had always wished he could fly.

A spider crawled across the floor, and Harry imagined it as ten feet tall.

"Why, if it is not my faithful steed, Mr. Leggy." He poked it fearlessly, and the spider ran beneath his bed.

Harry frowned to himself, and stated words of self-consolation. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway. I didn't have anything to feed you." That'd be gross, anyway. He'd have to cup flies in his hands or something and watch it eat them alive, or something like that. Spiders probably wouldn't like to eat peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Wait, wait, no, of course ten foot tall spiders liked peanut butter and jam sandwiches. That was how they got so large.

He wondered what his mum would have said, if she could see him now. Would she have told him to stop playing with the dirty spider and get out of that dusty, filthy cup board and up into his bedroom for a board game? It was a bit strange, to think that he jump for the chance to get scolded. Having someone who did it out of caring, not... not dislike of him. There was scolding and then there was _scolding_, he knew, not that Aunt Petunia had been very good at imparting such a lesson. But it was clear the fussing she did over her son was very different than what she did over her nephew. And 'over' was quite the appropriate word; adults and authority figures seemed to be the type to take a joy out of towering over his short stature. He didn't really trust them too much, but he could not imagine his parents being anything like that. No, his father could have been a jaguar tamer or something. Could have. Never mind how unlikely it was. But they certainly weren't bums like Aunt Marge said.

It was his birthday today, and he was startled by a knock on the door. A part of him felt a stupid thrill of hope. Could it be they'd remembered? That something, anything, different was going to happen today? But no. Aunt Petunia simply wanted him to cook.

Harry went out obediently, and listened to idle gossip about the neighbors that Petunia felt like sharing at the table before managing to tune it out. After awhile, he was aware of a sudden silence in the house, and eyes staring at him. Turning his head, he wondered with a touch of fear what he'd done wrong.

"Happy Birthday." Vernon grunted, and outstretched a hand to show...

An old, musty sock, far too big to ever fit on Harry or Dudley for that matter.

There was only moments to make a decision. This was, by far, not the first time this had ever happened though. Why, why any part of him had hoped any differently by now he hadn't a clue.

A few possibilities ran through his mind rapidly:

a-} Internally mutter 'Jerks!' in frustration, grit teeth, and smile.  
>b-} Politely turn the gift down.<br>c-} Ask "What that's supposed to be?"  
>d-} Sarcastically thank them.<br>e-} Show extreme, overwhelming gratitude until it gets on their nerves.

f-} Wear it! It's very '_fashionable_'. Plus, they can't complain if you wear only one sock in public now in front of the neighbors.

z-} And of course, he could do none of the above.

Harry was no stranger to smart-alec behavior or sarcasm, although it was hardly his most common mode of behavior. Such a situation as this, however, made it highly tempting. Young Mr. Potter was not a saint, after all, no matter what his wildest daydreams sometimes liked to pretend.


	4. Beware the half shod man

Thanks Agnie again.

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><p>He chose <strong>c,f <strong>_and_ _got sarcasm house potential, erm, I mean... Gryffindor and Slytherin, being rather bold and sly at the same time._

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><p>It was without disbelief- this was all too typical of them- that he looked up and asked in as innocent a voice as he could muster, "What's that?"<p>

"Don't be daft boy, it's your birthday present." The beefy man yelled, before smiling. Good lord, Uncle Vernon was grinning. Actually grinning. At him. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke.

Ah, Petunia was smiling as well. It definitely was a joke. They were all laughing at him inside their heads. What exactly was going on in their tiny little minds, he hadn't a clue, but Harry continued to stare blankly at the sock wondering what to do with it.

"Well, take it boy, it's a sock, not a viper!" Vernon growled, getting bored of holding his arm out like that.

Fine, fine. Harry grabbed it, rolling his eyes, then got an idea and smiled mischievously. He lifted a leg up and quickly slipped it on, massively oversized and probably liable to trip him should he walk with any speed.

"Thank Vernon, he got you a gift, you ungrateful boy." Petunia reminded him.

"Oh, right. Thanks, Uncle Vernon." Harry said, not really meaning the word at all and it came out with a droning monotone.

"Try to sound a bit more enthusiastic, it is your birthday after all." And with that, everyone promptly forgot about him, Vernon opening up a newspaper and reading it, and Petunia talking on the phone.

When Petunia made some fudge cake later, Harry reached to take some at the counter and she slapped his hand. It was, apparently, for Dudley, and when he pointed out it was his birthday, she shrugged and said 'oh, wasn't that nice, she'd totally forgotten' and still refused to give him any cake.

The next day early in the morning, he headed outside to weed the garden, wearing his one sock and his shoes. Vernon snapped at him to stop looking so silly, and he gave wide, innocent eyes and proclaimed that he hadn't any idea, and in any case, he was just wearing the clothing they'd given him, which flustered the man enough to go away for awhile.

The real amusement came, however, when he went for his usual walk to his hide out tree and the neighbors spotted him wearing nothing but his one sock, and started gossiping about him within range of his hearing (for some reason, adults tended to talk about him while he was still there, as if he were an unpleasant and unintelligent slug that couldn't possibly hear them). Harry looked back to one of them and with a wide grin told them the sock was his birthday present, and that next year he might be lucky enough to get the other half of the pair. He got the feeling some of this eventually reached back home, because one day, Aunt Petunia, without warning, grabbed his arm and shoved him in the car for a shopping trip.

If there was one thing Aunt Petunia hated more than anything, it was to be thought badly of by her neighbors, or thought of as abnormal. Apparently, she'd smoothed it over as the boy 'just being strange' and 'joking around', but the end result for Harry was a bizarre mix of punishment and reward. He was being sentenced to his cup board...

But Aunt Petunia was also buying him some real clothes that fit! And birthday presents! Actually, correction, he could have a total of ONE brand new 'present', the clothes were just because she'd noticed 'he had grown a bit' excuses excuses. Harry was extremely giddy about it. His first real birthday present, even if it was a bit late and came out of nothing but resentment and humiliation. But what to choose? Nothing expensive, of course, Petunia would look for any opportunity to deny him pleasure...

A few possibilities blossomed to mind.

a-} Candy. He almost never got any, and sweets were always monopolized by Dudley.  
>b-} A book.<br>c-} A real bedroom, not the cup board. Maybe they'd let him have the guest bedroom!  
>d-} Hard cash.<br>e-} A pet.  
>f-} Toy.<br>g-} Something that was his parents'.  
>h-} A second sock. Of course, she'd absolutely kill him if he did ask this...<br>i-} A hug.

j-} a trip to somewhere fun.

He wondered if he'd ever been hugged before, and what it had felt like... Though, a pet would be far more loveable than Aunt Petunia, he could still pretend for a moment that she was another human being, one who cared about him if he did get a hug. Hard cash had a definite advantage in that he could buy multiple things, even if not many, and let it sit for awhile until he saw something really good. And of course, having an actual bedroom, he'd jump for that, though asking for it would be risky.

Candy or a toy was something he was fairly sure he could get, in comparison to the other things. Any pet he'd got would have to be something the Dursleys wouldn't protest to, which excluded just about everything from mice to dogs... he might have to ham it up with a speech about it teaching him responsibility and caring for other beings if he did ask for that... Same thing with books, he would not be able to get a book that looked dangerous or overly imaginative he was sure- any with titles like 'Car bombing 101' would clearly be out of question. A trip, while it would be a great change of pace, would probably get a hard refusal with the excuse of 'it being cruel to the public to expose him to them' or something and just be ruined by hard glares the entire time. Or worse, they'd take him to somewhere as thrilling as the barbers.

Asking about his parents would be the riskiest thing he could do, he judged. Having that turned down would be extremely painful. Yet it would also be the most rewarding.


	5. The Top Hatted Stranger

Thanks Agnie and Jiou again. For those curious, I got about 50 hits last chapter, and have 5 alerts. I am trying to update at least every week. I find the story light and fun, and don't really care about getting lots of readers. Amusingly you guys seem to balance each other out, Jiou's good at canon!Harry and Agnie thinks up good strategies for dealing with the Dursleys. I suspect this story might get more readers once actual magic gets into the story. Which could be soon.

Ugh. FFnet ate some of the words in this story. Alert me if you spot any obvious missing bits.

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><p><em>I, g, c mix of options chosen.<em>

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><p>Harry was torn, strongly wanting a new bedroom, which seemed a little less risky, and about asking for something, anything, of his parents'. Almost shyly, at the shop he glanced up at his shrew of an aunt. "Petunia, I've been thinking..."<p>

"You know I hate it when you do that." she snapped. "Well, spit it out."

Gee, pleasant. Well, here it goes. "could-I-please-have-something of -my-parents." he said very fast.

"What?" Petunia's brow furrowed, Harry having been near incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry. I was just wondering if you had anything left over or inherited from my parents..." Photos? A Christmas card? Something? A chunk of the car they'd died in? Although, that last was a bit morbid.

"I burned everything I had of them. Rotten, no good nonsense-" she muttered things under her breath angrily, before speaking louder. "They didn't even leave you any money, to my knowledge." Of course Aunt Petunia would find that a shame. Especially since she'd be the one spending it, he roughly guessed. He thought of asking a few questions, but knew that she'd tell him, _again_, simply that they were drunkard, no-good jobless buffoons and not to ask _stupid_ questions.

"Thank you anyway." He exclaimed, then, before she could give a surprised reprimand, leaned over and hugged her, trying to imagine he was hugging someone else when he did. It was tense and uncomfortable, with her hot breathing over his shoulder, and not at all like he'd hoped a hug would feel and quickly broke away in embarrassment. It really just made him feel more miserable, and she was staring at him strangely. He didn't feel comfortable bringing up the subject of the bedroom right after that, and a strange silence hung between them. Maybe later.

Aunt Petunia didn't really let him pick out his new clothes, but it was entirely what Harry had expected. She didn't want him to wear anything disagreeable, like, apparently, that one sock had been.

After they checked out and started to walk out the store, a strange man in a large purple top hat bowed to him with a short "Good day, Mr. Potter!"

The first thing that crossed his mind was _Nice. No one is ever that polite to me, and hey, wait a second, did he say my name?_ He double checked to make sure it wasn't a teacher from school he'd forgotten. It wasn't.

It was extremely bizarre, but it made Aunt Petunia furious.

She pulled the man aside, told Harry to stay where he was, and began to interrogate the man on their relationship, how he knew 'the boy', and warned to 'stay away from my family' quite loudly enough for anyone to hear, even though Harry got the feeling the conversation was supposed to private, or at least, not for his ears.

There were a few options.

a-} Get closer and eavesdrop on what the man is saying. Look innocent when Aunt Petunia looks back.

b-} Try to ask the guy personally how he knew him.

c-} Don't do anything. Think of the bedroom! The bedroom!

d-} Fabricate a story to Aunt Petunia and try to quietly whisper to the man to meet him later on Surrey Road.

D sounded very dangerous. Besides the obvious fury of Petunia and the reliance on making up a plausible story, he didn't know the guy at all, and might be a crazy stalker or something for all he knew. Though, there was no reason in the world he could think of that anyone would stalk him. Harry wasn't even attractive.

On the other hand, he figured he could probably outrun the man, and it wasn't like he was planning on taking any candy from the stranger. It might be the only opportunity to get some answers without Aunt Petunia interrupting or dragging him off.


	6. The Deal

_Ah, my readers are so clever. You figured out it was Dedalus Diggle. Kudos to you._

_Once again I'm getting different votes; each with valid points. So I'll mix the two a little. Points/potential for Gryffindor this round for boldness. Fascinatingly, he's definitely drifting from canon already. His Slytherin/Gryffindor dichotomy is actually showing. I'm going to profess he often didn't seem very sly or ambitious at all when I read the books, so I haven't the slightest idea why the hat wanted to sort him there. Then again, I suppose it saw potential, not what was already there. Harry didn't seem terribly brave when he was first sorted either, that developed later when he or his friends were thrust into danger. It's possible the hat also sorts depending on what you value most- that would explain a lot, although that would suggest canon Harry secretly valued ambition and cunning at that point in time but Hagrid and Ron successfully turned him away from wanting to be cunning or ambitious by associating it with evil. Which is actually kind of sad._

_All his life, from family, from peers, this poor kid has been told wanting more for himself- particularly acting on such a feeling- is bad. He has to be selfless. A martyr, even. And hey, what happens to him in the end? He's told he has to die to save everyone. And he does it. Whopping surprise there. /sarcasm Almost zero character growth involved in the decision at all- the decision seemed inevitable. Feel free to disagree, I'd love to hear why (as long as it's polite of course)._

_I'm not sure I'll actually take the story (thought experiment really) that far, all the way to book seven- right now I'm only planning to go to book one, since I've read that thoroughly enough I can give a fairly good timeline of it without having to dig up the book. Perhaps our Harry will deviate enough or so little in the first book as to make his final answer in book seven obvious.  
><em>

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><p>Harry edged closer, unable to resist eavesdropping. This actually turned out to not be very hard, as the conversation was very loud. The short man was highly exciteable, and oblivious to Aunt Petunia's desires to keep the public from looking at them as she angrily interrogated him. Perhaps Harry, after so many years with living with her, simply had an edge at reading her. Or perhaps the man was just a little daft.<p>

He planned to ask the man, bluntly, how he knew him but his furious relative beat him to it.

"Why, everyone knows Harry Potter!" Definitely a little daft. The man tried to explain to Aunt Petunia 'how exactly he knew the boy', as she had asked. "How could I not know him, our glorious savior?" Savior? Wait, did he think he was Jesus or Buddha or something?

She shook the man, seething visibly. "Where did you meet him? School? The streets?"

"Well," the man squeaked. "the shop, I suppose!"

"So the boy knows you from a previous occasion?" he could almost read the thought process in Petunia's head- she was planning never to visit this particular store ever again, not if it were populated or visited by even one person who liked Harry, such clearly being an abomination of nature.

"Oh, I would be extremely flattered if he knew me!" ...this was just getting weirder and weirder. This man, was he one of those crazed stalkers on television? No, no, no, who would ever choose to stalk and murder little Harry? In any case the thought gave him goosebumps. Hopefully Aunt Petunia wouldn't realize and hand him over. She did have some kind of morals and sense of kindness deep inside her, didn't she? Eh. Maybe really, _really_ deep down. "But of course he would not have time to know someone of such little importance as I!"

Aunt Petunia glanced Harry's way, a disbelieving expression on her face, and Harry quickly looked off to the side and false-yawned as if bored and not hanging on their every word.

Petunia looked back, a kind of epiphany in her eyes, and spoke low, whispered words he barely caught. "You are _one of those freaks_, aren't you? I told your sort years ago,_ when Lily died because of_ you- I want nothing, nothing to do with _your kind_, and you are to stay away from my family with your _freakishness._ That was part_ of the deal!_"

"What?" the poor man looked horribly confused, and spoke this once again quite loudly. "Good woman, I have no idea what you are speaking about. I just wanted to say hello to Harry Potter, I meant no harm I swear!"

"Good day." she said, clearly not meaning a word, and turned, grabbed Harry with a vise-like painful grip, and stomped off.

Harry's head was swimming too much to register any pain, even as he was pushed into the car roughly and they began to drive off he could only register one thing. Aunt Petunia had lied to him. Lily, that was his mother's name; she had not just died of a car crash, she'd died as... part of some sort of deal? No, no, because of 'freaks'. The deal was even more mysterious. It might be tied to the death, it might not, Harry hadn't a clue. He had strange visions of Aunt Petunia talking to a bunch of mobsters, making some kind of underhand deal to off her sister- but just couldn't make the image make any sense. For one, why not do the whole job and off Harry too? No, when Lily died, that was the clue. That was when the deal was made.

So, Aunt Petunia had made an agreement with some kind of group of freaks to stay away from her and the family in return for something else. Harry hadn't the slightest clue what anyone could have wanted from the Dursleys. An underhand deal to look the other way as their company sold faulty cheap drills? Maybe his mother had been murdered to make an 'example' of what happened when you didn't obey the... freaks? Or the drills had been used to assemble the car his parents had driven in, causing their death?

Harry was honestly feeling quite confused, and worried. All he knew was that Aunt Petunia tended to call him a freak and his parents, too. Maybe- though the idea was quite ludicrous- they'd belong to some sort of secret society, and Harry had membership. But he was fairly certain none of them had tried to contact him until now, and not very well, either. If that man was an example of one of the members of a secret society, he couldn't imagine it staying secret for very long.

Maybe he was over-thinking this, and Aunt Petunia was just mad. Maybe he was a car salesman from the same company that sold the car they died in, hoping to solicit a sale... No, that didn't make any sense either.

When they got home, Uncle Vernon brushed off the incident, saying the man was clearly bonkers and must have gotten Harry's name out of the phone-book. Never mind that Harry was fairly certain minors didn't get their names registered in phone-books, he knew for a fact a phone-book wouldn't have a picture of him to be identified with. It also didn't explain the weird deal Aunt Petunia had mentioned, or the fact there was more to car accident than met the eye. Harry felt determined to learn the truth, though it wouldn't be easy. These were his parents one was talking about after all, he had a right to know. No matter how grisly the truth. Somehow he doubted it was for his own protection because they thought him too young to know, though.

Aunt Petunia blamed Harry personally, though how she managed to make that work in her head he had no clue, and sentenced him to doing extra chores and then going straight to the cupboard under the stairs for a week.

He'd never thought much about a profession before, but it occurred to Harry that when he grew up, he might become a cop or a private investigator, if he couldn't solve the mystery now in his childhood. The idea of pursuing justice in particular didn't sound too bad; maybe he could help the defenseless like him from bullies like Dudley.

But in the meantime...

1.-} He could look for old newspaper articles, and if possible old recordings of public television broadcasts. Someone must have covered the event, after all, in more detail than 'there was a car crash'. And if it was caused by drunk driving, the news should mention it. Then a-} he could confront the Dursleys with proof of their lies or b-} stay smugly quiet knowing they are full of bull.  
>2.-} He could ask the Dursleys straight out, mention exactly what he'd heard and treat it as an accident since the talk was so loud.<br>3.-} Tell the Dursleys he's figured it all out. Bluff them.  
>4.-} Point out that the only logical way the man could have known him was if he knew his parents or if he had private records he wasn't supposed to have- and if they were private records, the man was breaking the law and was a dangerous stalker.<br>5-} Refuse to do chores on the grounds that he didn't know the man!

Of all of them, Harry felt bluffing would work out the most horribly. It was risky and he might not learn anything at all- in fact the Dursleys would not only treat him worse for it he was sure, but they'd likely clam up again on the subject and if they took the bluff he couldn't ask questions about it any more without looking like a liar. He could threaten to set the freaks on them if it came to it... but that could backfire hideously as well.

If he refused to do chores, he'd get punished for sure.. the only thing he'd get was dignity, and Harry considered that dignity was, quite possibly, highly over-rated. Demanding to be treated like a normal human being never worked well. Not to say he wasn't sick of being blamed for the littlest things, he was!


	7. The Dursleys Lied

A/N_: So, I haven't updated in like two years. Sorry about that? I stopped a bit due to being worried about maybe rule breaking, and then just sort of forgot about it. I also lost my copy of HP which makes it much harder to do an in-detail analysis like this. I am altering the summary to reflect that reviews suggesting story paths are LOVED but not necessary? I am not planning to return to my previous super-updatey schedule, but I will do some moar. If nothing else I'd like to see him up to the sorting hat and see how the changes have affected him and his sorting._

_I'd like to thank Jiou, though the chances of them seeing this after all this time are slim, for their long and thoughtful review. You are right; self sacrifice is a part of Harry's character and it isn't purely because of other people. Deep down he believes in protecting others and doing the right thing; he empathizes with others who have suffered from what he has gone through himself. I still stand by my assertion that as a young boy desperate for approval, book-Harry rejected many independent and Slytherin qualities out of viewing them as evil and would probably feel very, very guilty if he ever wanted to stop being so self sacrificial. To some degree, while admirable in the way he expresses his heroism it is not entirely healthy._

_Votes are for 4, 1b, and 1 and b. I also agree with these votes and the reasoning behind them, so 1 and B it definitely is. Also, a vote for potential future policeman!harry? Heh. Things are starting to get AU. This is officially no longer canon! Butterfly wings._

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><p>Path: <strong>1b.<strong>

Harry very strongly considered confronting the Dursley's. It was seriously tempting, and he felt like he had a fool proof argument. But it was just too risky, and since when had the Dursley's ever listened to logic, for all that they claimed to hate nonsense and abhorred imagination of any sort? They would likely just ignore him and punish him rather than telling him anything, even if he caught them red-handed lying about his parents.

And he did at this point strongly suspect they were lying about something, though he didn't know what. Covering up, at the very least. What was this mysterious deal? What did it have to do with that strangely dressed man?

He pretty much outright dismissed bluffing them, refusing chores, or straight out asking as innocently as possible. Refusing chores would get him punished further, and bluffing or asking 'innocently' would, well, fall prey to the same problem as confronting them outright with the holes in their story.

No, the only way of getting the truth would be to find it himself. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia cared very, very little what he did as long as he did not get up to trouble. Going up to strangers, not wanting to risk talking to gossiping neighbors, he asked for directions to the local library until he finally got a good answer. Heading off, he felt gladdened when he heard from the front desk of the library that he could read anything he wanted as long as he did not take it out, and if he did want to check things out he could get a card to do so.

He could steal money from Uncle Vernon to buy himself a card, but, it didn't seem worth it if he could just read in the library.

Pulling through papers was extremely boring, but what he eventually found shocked him.

The first interesting thing he found was '"Fourteen Killed by mad man Sirius Black!" that at first he thought was related, but being a day ahead, could not be it. It said the man had gunned a full street of people down and used an explosive, killing one of his own best friends Peter Pettigrew, then cackled wildly and let the authorities lead him away.(*)

The next article was even more interesting.

'_Mysterious fire burns down Godric Hollow, 2 dead' _He knew that had to be it the moment he saw the title. There was no record of any car crash killing people that day. The article's words confirmed it: 'Two died in their homes, Lily and James Potter, orphaning their young son Mr. Potter.' It was brief, very scanty thing to go on, but it was something. Finally, he had proof of the truth.

_My parents did not die in a car crash. _Harry thought in shock. They weren't bums either, they had their very own house!

But why.

Why would the Dursley's lie about his family dying in a fire? It made no sense.

Did it have something to do with 'the deal' Petunia spoke of so mysteriously? Did they secretly hire an arsonist to burn down his family's home and then, when presented with Harry, chicken out of finishing off the last Potter?

He had some options.

He could:

1: confront the Dursleys and tell them he knew his parents died in a fire.

2: confront them about both the fire AND the deal and accuse them of murder. Admittedly, this plan sounded kind of dangerous; if they did murder what if they killed him too?! He found himself mentally leaning away from this one already.

3: Visit Godric Hollow on his own and try and find more evidence, find neighbors who knew them and get more of the truth from them.

4: Pretend he knew nothing at all and continue researching in the library.

5: Do nothing. Dissatisfying, but if they were really murderers maybe it was best not to give any sign he was on to them, including going to the library to find evidence of their lie?

* * *

><p>* - I debated what exactly the news articles were, as I could find little information. I remember there being something about muggles being convinced about gas explosions, but in POS they also have Black as an escaped convict, so it would also make sense if<em> that<em> was the cover story. Having two gas explosions right next to each other would be rather suspicious, and they can't use the same cover story all the time, can they?

Also, storywise it's more interesting. :P


	8. Godrics Hollow

**Foundations**

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><p>AN: No votes for story paths this time! Oh well. Folks, suggestionsvotes for story paths are highly desired! Notice the times where I label options with letters or numbers? Suggest any of those! Not necessary of course, but it does make it more fun; this originally was a game of sorts, though now it is just a story. The only suggestion this time was for moar on the Sirius Black business; I guess I did not quite explain that well enough, so here we go.

To Nanettez, I find the idea the hat sorts on what you value most actually pretty likely. Nonetheless, I may occasionally still do 'points' simply as part of the analysis, to show how often young pre-Hogwarts Harry would do something Slytherin and underhanded simply to get around the Dursleys. Like in this chapter, in fact.

Although, things become SO divergent in this chapter that, well, let's say we are no longer following the original plan at all.

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><p><strong> Paths taken:<strong> 3 and 4, avoiding the Dursleys and finding the truth another way. Points toward Ravenclaw and Slytherin, for studying and for taking a more cunning, indirect path rather than direct brave confrontation with the Dursleys like a Gryffindor. Some argument could be made for bravery, however, in going off alone, and for a hard work ethic for trying so hard; Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are not out of the question for this path, just not as strong.

**Chapter 8: Godric's Hollow**

In the end, he decided against a direct confrontation with the Dursleys. That was a touch suicidal; Vernon at the least was certain to lock him up in his cupboard without supper. Going all the way and accusing them of murder, that would probably get him a beating; and if they'd really done it, what would stop them from killing him too? No, that plan was just stupid. It was best just to learn the truth on his own if possible. If he really, really wanted, he could confront them after he had evidence of... whatever had happened and of whatever that mysterious 'deal' was Petunia had spoken about to that strange man.

He couldn't just do nothing, either, even if that was safest.

He went over the newspapers and other articles one more time, just to be studious. He had originally noticed the Sirius Black murder because of the unusual timing; as he had been going through the papers in chronological order, it was difficult not to notice that only a day after his parents' deaths, there had been a mass murderer on the loose.

In addition, he'd found a few other mysterious deaths from around the same time period; they all stopped at around the time Sirius Black was captured. It was all very suspicious. Had Sirius Black been some kind of mass murderer who had killed his parents and many other people who were all connected in some mysterious way?

In the end, Harry needed to know more.

He had to go to Godric's Hollow, where his parents had died. He didn't know what he'd find there, but it was not hard to get to the place; he found maps and he knew how to take a bus or taxi. He'd have to filch money off Vernon or allowance off Dudley probably, but it would be, well, more than worth it. This was the first time in his life he truly had the chance to learn something of his parents, to get something of them, heck, to maybe speak to their graves.

He waited until an opportune time when he was not wanted for any chores and it was not too late in the day; the earlier the better, actually. One morning his opportunity came up; Aunt Petunia forgot to ask him for anything after he made breakfast, and Vernon had left his wallet in plain sight while in another room talking to Petunia and Dudley, ranting about people who didn't appreciate good old fashioned drills and used explosives instead in mines. Harry made his move, heart thudding in his chest aware that at any moment he could be caught fiddling through and taking cash, and then dashed out the door.

"Hey, where's Harry going?" he overheard Dudley shout.

"Who cares?"

Yes, he thought, _who cares about stupid old Harry?_, trying not to let his eyes get wet and failing; one would think after so long such cruelty would not sting, but it had taken him by surprise today, that they would manage to scathingly insult him even as he was leaving. He was just a big old molding slug to them that left slime where-ever it went.

_But, I will be going to people who used to care, _he told himself firmly, cheering himself up and heading for a bus stop. _I... will get to see my parents maybe, if they are buried near there. Or turned to ash? Did the fire burn them to cinders? _he thought morbidly, a part of him half expecting to see burnt charred bones when he arrived there.

The reality did not turn out to be half so morbid, thankfully. When he arrived, half exhausted from the long ride and a lot of walking to and fro, and hungrily wishing he'd brought food with him, one of the first things he encountered in the village was the graveyard and a church. A look through gave strange names like 'Ignotus Peverell' and a few 'Dumbledore's. Harry had never heard such a strange name before, but didn't waste time pondering it, because he spotted his parents' grave.

Kneeling, he felt oddly light and at loss for words. For a long time he just kneeled there, staring in strange joy and sorrow bitterly mingled. What should he do? Pray? Quietly, he read the inscription, finding it rather strange: "_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._"

What did that mean? It was the very first thing he had of them, that phrase, yet it was so... useless. Was that his parents' way of saying they wanted him to become immortal? Kind of hard to do, didn't one think? Then again, maybe they weren't the ones responsible for it and someone else put it there; when they were dead they could hardly argue after all.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he cried, not really knowing why he was apologizing. He felt guilty. "If you can see me now, I must not look much. I don't know how to be the boy you wanted. I wish you were here. I wish the Dursleys would stop lying about you. I'll find the truth and clear your name; I know you weren't drunkards and useless bums. You, you had your own house didn't you?" Which, it occurred to him, he still had not seen. Getting up and brushing the dirt off him Harry moved on. The moment they had died, all hope he'd had of a normal life had been extinguished with them; he was forever an orphan with guardians who hated him and thought him a freak.

The young boy began to get really tired and hungry now, having been gone from the Dursleys for hours now, but he was far too excited to think of resting. He ran, ran through the village, not caring if he turned heads; and indeed, strangers began to stare at him and mutter to themselves, 'Who is that boy?' 'Is that who I think it is?'

He ran to the burned down house, and paused, staring in shock. An obelisk, bizarrely, shifted shape as he approached it.

It was a statue of his parents! A man and a woman, a man who looked a great deal like him, it had to be, it had to be his father!

Who built it...? Why...? His parents could not be nobodies, this was proof, they could not be just anyone even. They had to be heroes, they had to be! But for what? Little Harry felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his sockets staring at it in awe. It felt like the sweetest vindication, if also the greatest puzzle of his life. Now he had something really good on the Dursleys. They could not deny a bloody statue! They had to tell him!

A cat meowed, and caught his attention, drawing it away. He could, he felt, have stared at it forever, mesmerized by the first image of his parents he'd ever seen, wishing to drink in every detail. It was with great reluctance Harry moved his head away and glanced at the scruffiest, dirtiest, scrawniest looking cat(*) he'd ever seen. It mewed pitifully and walked up to him, tail brushing up against a sign with golden letters. He reached down, not having far to bend being so small and short himself, and petted it, reading the sign.

And read the plaque again, unable to believe his eyes.

It read:

'On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.'

If this was right, then Harry was... no, there had to be some kind of mistake. Some kind of prank.

"I... I can't be a wizard! I'm Harry, just Harry!" Lame, who cares where they go little worthless Harry. "And what in the world is a Muggle or a killing curse?" Spells of some kind? Or muggles were some sort of monster? He balled his fist in frustration. "It has to be a prank... except, who would expect me to come out all the way here? And who would bother to prank little old me?" It was far too elaborate for the lazy Dursleys, that was sure, and far too creative.

The cat mewed again, and distracted him again. He petted the cat, forcing himself to calm, and continued reading, drawing his eye this time to some of the weird graffiti on the sign. 'Thank you, Harry'? Thank him for what? For surviving? If they thanked him, if they liked him so bloody much, why could no one be bothered to come get him and take care of him? Why did they leave him with the awful Dursleys, why didn't... why didn't anyone want him?

A hopeful part of him stirred. Maybe nobody knew where he was. Maybe he really did have some secret relative out there, waiting to come spring him away. Maybe he was supposed to magic himself away, and this was some sort of evil test?

"Please take me away!" he shouted to the sky, forcing back tears.

No one came. Why he had expected anything different, he had no idea. Turning around, he began to walk home - -

and bounced straight into a woman in long robes. Eyes wide, he backed up. _A witch? _he breathed out silently, hopeful, very hopeful, but also afraid. What if she knew this Killing Curse thingy? He didn't know a single spell. He was a very terrible wizard, he supposed, not knowing how to do any magic. Maybe, he thought fretfully, they left him alone because he'd lost all his magic. Now that Harry thought of it, he could think of some strange incidents that might be magic, but he was wary of being too hopeful. Life liked to disappoint him.

"Harry Potter?" she beamed at him. "Is that really you?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered uncertainly, backing away. The cat, bizarrely enough, moved in front of him protectively, and hissed. "Who wants to know?"

"Now now, I'm not going to harm you! My name is Bathilda Bagshot, writer of A History of Magic," she stated cheerfully. "Come now, what are you doing alone out here in the heat?"

It was quite hot in the baking sun, when one was not in the shade, and he'd had no respite from it whatsoever. "I wanted to visit my parents. Am I really a wizard?" he asked uncertainly.

"Are you - of course you're a wizard! Why did you ever think differently?" she seemed quite taken back.

He felt uncertain if he should reveal it. "You wrote a history book? Is there anything about my parents? I know barely anything about them, could you, maybe, let me read it?"

"Harry Potter, read my book? I would be thrilled! But you don't have to go to my book for it. I knew them, in fact!"

"You did?" he gasped, thrilled. Perhaps Harry should have guessed, if she lived around here maybe she knew them as neighbors.

"Oh, not very well; they went into hiding quite shortly after they learned they were going to have you, and those were dark, secretive days when no one was really going out of their way to make friends with anyone. They were great heroes, and made many enemies when they fought against You-Know-Who." _You know wha? Who?_ He missed something there. "Lily was a lovely friend of mine, invited me to your first birthday party."

"Wow," he felt stunned. It was just like he thought, then. "So they were a witch and wizard too?"

"Of course they were! Goodness child, how could you not know this? Didn't your guardians tell you anything?" She frowned, and Harry frowned too.

"No," he said. "They don't like magic at all. Could you show me your book please? And tell me everything you know about my parents? I would like it very much." He had never had much an interest in studying, but if it gave him his answers that would be wonderful. His stomach gurgled. "Who killed them, and why? What heroic deeds did they do? Who is You Know Who?" He was abubble with questions.

"Goodness," she tsked. "Well, you best come inside to my house; I will lend you a copy of my book and give you some lunch if you like."

"Oh, please, thank you!" He refrained from bouncing on his feet like other children were prone to do, knowing from hard experience with the Dursleys that it was best to be muted, small, and as unmoving and uninteresting as possible. Instead, he put his energies into politeness, truly not wanting to make an enemy of her; he hoped maybe she could be his first ever friend, or maybe the second, for the cat really seemed to like him, and as they walked to her house the cat followed him from behind. It was an older kitty he guessed, and starving, probably with not many more years left in its life, but was sweet enough. "Could you feed the cat too?"

"Oh, I suppose," she was surprised at him, but agreed easily enough.

Truly happy now, he looked forward to the meal and to the answers to his questions.

"You-Know-Who gathered many followers to his side, and your parents opposed him, so he killed them. You were the only survivor, and, somehow, though no one knows how, banished him. That is how you got your scar." She glanced at him curiously. "I am surprised you do not know this, but it is quite a well known fact in our world."

Harry reached up to his scar, feeling a little sick. It had been the one thing he'd really been proud of about himself, as it was very cool looking, but now it was a sickening harbringer of death tying him to a murderer. Abruptly, he wished he could just get rid of it, no longer wanting the reminder. "But who is You-Know-Who?"

"We don't say his name," her voice became hushed. "It was dangerous to speak out against him or about him, in those days, lest you attract the wrong sort of attention. I will show it to you in writing."

She scribbled on a napkin and held it out like a note, the letters looming large and angry looking: 'VOLDEMORT'.

Harry took a sharp breath, and looked up at her. "And I defeated him? He's really dead?"

"No one fully knows what happened to him," she admitted. She opened the door to her house, and waved in. "Make yourself at home in my little library. It's not every day I entertain Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and savior of the Wizarding World himself."

Such strange titles! He couldn't wait to learn more about himself and his world. He kept himself from running inside to be polite though, not wanting to alienate the woman, and walked in with the strange scruffy cat.

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><p>Time wore on, and Harry, after the meal, knew he was in trouble. He could not stay here, most likely, and he could not bring the books to the Dursleys who would surely burn them. He'd be punished when he got home, that much he knew.<p>

"Could I... stay here? I don't like my relatives much. A bunch of, uh, what do you call them again?"

"Muggles."

"Yes. They hate me. Could I live here?" he gave his biggest puppy eyes.

"I'm afraid not. I'd be charged on kidnapping, and I'm a little too old and unequipped to look after a child, boy." Bathilda gazed at him with wrinkly eyes. "Surely they cannot be too bad?"

Harry bit his lip, stubbornly thinking that yes, they could be too bad. Well, there were several options open to him.

(a) Run away, and try to make a living stealing things; he could periodically turn up at Bathilda's to beg food and books from her and maybe sleep over for the night if he got really good at begging, she never had to know he ran away.

(b) Return to the Dursleys and try to sneak the books in, risking having them burnt or confiscated.

(c) Return to the Dursleys and leave the books here, and just tell Bathilda Bagshot he'd try to be back. Of course, the Dursleys would probably ground him for life for being gone so long and never let their eyes off him, but... maybe he'd get a chance to go back...

(d) Return to the Dursleys and try to stash the books somewhere else, maybe in a hole in the ground, before arriving. The books might get ruined doing this, and they were on loan, after all.

Hmm. Maybe he could curse the Dursleys into submission?

"I don't suppose you could teach me some spells, could you?"

"No, dear, you wouldn't be able to cast them without a wand, and you won't be getting one for a few years yet," she told him.

Well, there went that idea, he inwardly scowled. So it was down to the original options.

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><p>(*) - The Potters were said to own a cat; there is not a whole lot of information though on what happened to it, only that Harry nearly ran it over with a toy kids' broom as a child if I remember right. A part of me is inclined to say it's Crookshanks, but that doesn't seem likely to be canon.<p>

I profess I was uncertain with this chapter; I know nothing of Bathilda's personality or what exactly would happen if Harry ran away from home. It seems like there should be some kind of tracking spell on him to alert Dumbledore, but, considering all the mischief Harry has gotten up to like flying away from home in the Weasley Car I have to call this as a 'nope'.


	9. Return Home

**Foundations**

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><p><em>Votes<em>: For option D, and for Harry to curse the Dursleys at some point mwahaha. Also, a vote for him to meet Hermione and Luna earlier and save Luna's mum. I don't think it would be possible for someone who knows zero magic to save someone, so I have to veto that, buuut, meeting Luna early is still a possibility!

I've also spent some time re-pondering the should-Dumbledore-be-alerted issue. On one hand, Harry gets up to mischief so easily, like the flying car and running away on the Knightbus, and the Dursleys get away with abusive behavior. On the other, Dumbledore is such a manipulative bastard, he obviously must have realized Harry was missing from home pretty quickly if the Ministry was out looking for Harry at the Knightbus incident, but then again that could be chalked up to simply the Ministry noticing magic. Dumbledore had to know what was going on in the Dursley home, he could look into Harry's mind at any time at the very least, and did nothing; probably it was even a bonus because he needed his hero to sacrifice himself willingly. I wouldn't be surprised if he sent Mrs. Figg over to watch Harry after sensing something amiss around the time of the Dementor's incident.

In the end, I think Petunia might alert him if she was really, really worried. On the other, she probably wouldn't want to attract any attention from wizards, and did Dumbledore even give them any way of contacting the Wizarding World? Seems really negligent to give his caretakers zero way for calling for backup if dark wizards come! The 'dumped on doorstep with only a letter' seems to indicate she had no way of contacting Dumbledore to chew him out royally.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Returning Home<strong>

In the end, he chose (d) Return to the Dursleys and try to stash the books somewhere else, maybe in a hole in the ground, before arriving. Bathilda was nice enough to give him a bag to carry everything in, so that was one trouble down.

He spent some time reading, on the off chance that he would never get another chance again and that the Dursleys would catch him, asked Bathilda where this 'Diagon Alley' and the rest of the Wizarding World was hiding at, then left.

After painstaking searching for a good place to stash his stuff, he realized even holes weren't a great option because he didn't have anything to dig with. He'd have to nick a trowel or shovel from Petunia's garden, or go buy one. He felt uncomfortable walking into a store with so many magical books on him, though, and as someone so young he'd surely get stares for going into a store alone. Although, he leaned toward doing so anyway just to get some dinner; the Dursleys were probably going to forbid him supper, and if he had stolen money he might as well use it. After a moment of debate, he walked in to a store, and dismissed concerned talk by the cashier with 'I am on an errand'.

He ended up getting himself some food, a knife (for protection, not that he imagined it would do much good against one of those Killing Curse thingies), and a small box as extra protection for his books from the rain. It was cheap plastic, but seemed sturdy enough to keep out the rain. After that, it didn't take too much time to find a poorly taken care of steep hillside to stash it at. With the various bits of trash no one had disturbed for years, he doubted anyone would glance twice at it, as well buried under vegetation as he could make it. He had to be careful not to take a tumble down the slope though when he finally stepped away from it.

Walking home, he saw someone he didn't expect; a figure in long robes lurking by his house. Immediately, he hid, breath hitching. Was this a dark wizard out to kill him?

Quick options:

(a) hide until they go away.

(b) Run. Maybe they have some way of detecting him.

(c) try to sneak around and get into his house. It probably had some wards or something, right? No wizard had ever attacked there before anyway.

(d) Attack them with the knife! ...or just threaten. This option seemed a bit suicidal, but maybe if he took them by surprise and got their wand first? It was dark and he was small, this was a possibility. And if they were out to kill his family and wait for him to come home so they could kill him too, maybe he didn't have any other options.

* * *

><p>AN: No info given on the wizard/witch intentionally. Harry doesn't know who it is, but any description certainly would leave the readers knowing. That said, while I have a clear idea of who it shall be, I am open to other suggestions if you have someone you really, really want it to be instead.


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